


Always A Price To Pay

by LittleMissCosmic



Series: We're Not Normal People [4]
Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Exhaustion, Unnecessary...Feelings, Whump, stephen strange whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissCosmic/pseuds/LittleMissCosmic
Summary: While John is busy convincing himself he doesn't care whether Stephen calls him or not, Stephen is out in Manhattan doing what he does best -- attracting unneeded trouble. When John eventually saves his arse (yet again), he's ready to get back to his mansion and leave Stephen be...that is until he falls into his arms right after weakly muttering an address: 177A Bleecker Street.
Relationships: John Constantine & Astra Logue, John Constantine & Gary Green, John Constantine & Stephen Strange
Series: We're Not Normal People [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135205
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	Always A Price To Pay

**Author's Note:**

> YESSS I got this one out by the end of the month!! :D I had a power outage earlier so I thought I'd have to set this back a day or two, but the power came back sooner than expected and i was able to finish! also btw btw: if you haven't read the Jason Aaron run of Doctor Strange (known as Way of the Weird) then 1) i TOTALLY recommend it-- it's sooo good! and 2) a lot of this series will take inspiration from ideas brought up in that run, such as "the price" (which was mentioned last time and will be somewhat explored here) 
> 
> so there's your little gushing moment from me today, here's the fic!!

John was hoping that his return to his mansion would be relaxing, but 3 hours of fiddling on his phone proved him wrong. 

He'd been running his thumb over the slip of paper still nestled in his pocket ever since he came back. He managed to plug it into his phone and text Stephen confirmation, though that was with the intention of throwing it away right after, so why it was still in his jacket was beyond him. As a matter of fact, why did he even plug it into his phone in the first place? It wasn't like he was going to call him. It was just gonna sit at the bottom of his contacts list and attract flies. 

"Hey, John," Gary's voice rang from the living room, and John briefly looked up from the coffee table to see him presenting his hand forward. "Look what I can do. _Invoco te ignem!_ " 

A burst of flames sprouted from his hand, a spell that they had been working on before his vacation. Normally, John would be entertained, maybe even somewhat proud of his protégé, but unfortunately his mind was preoccupied at the moment. 

"That-That's magnificent, Gary," he peered at his phone again, examining it intensely. It wasn't on, strangely enough, it was completely blank. He was just...staring at it, like it was some sort of mystic relic. 

"Yeah, I've been practicing it all week," Gary gazed at his hand, growing worried at the increasing size of the fire. "U-Usually next to a sink. Or a pond, or any body of water incase-- John? Oh god, I think it's spreading, John. _John?!"_

"Oh for hell's sake--" Astra walked in, leaned against the doorframe, and lifted her hand. " _Eatenus exstinxisti._ " 

With a flick of her wrist, the fire was gone. John looked up, pleased to see that his carpet hadn't been burnt to a crisp. 

"Thanks, love," he muttered half-mindedly, eyes locking back to his phone. 

While Gary hurried off to the nearest sink, Astra made her way towards John and crossed her arms. 

"What is up with you? You've been staring at your phone all day." 

John shot up, trying to pretend like he'd been looking up the entire time. "No I haven't." 

"Yes, you have," she rolled her eyes with an amused chortle. "By the First of the Fallen Ones, the great John Constantine is smitten with his cellphone! When you saw me with one, didn't you say it was a 'worthless piece of scrap junk'?" 

"I'm not on this bloody thing, now am I?" he raised it up, displaying its fully dark screen for anyone to see. Astra scowled at him, but decidedly dropped the subject, since if she knew anything about John Constantine, it was that he'd only tell her what was going on if his life was in mortal danger. And even then he'd probably keep his lips sealed. 

"Oh, whatever," she strolled away, going right for the record player down the hall. "Can I listen to some of your old records?" 

He flicked his hand up twice, hardly listening to her question. "Sure, sure, anything you want," was the remark he'd been using for anything recently, since all he had on his mind was staring at his phone for no particular reason. 

What was happening was an...enigma. It wasn't an instant connection like Des, nothing like that. But it didn't feel like a fling, like with Sara or Gary. Sure, Stephen was tall, considerably handsome, and had a unique head of salt-and-pepper hair, and sure, the teasing had begun to charm him. But it never started at a Manhattan pub on a lonely, desolate night. Those were one night stands. Those were no strings attached. 

He didn't know why he was still hung up on Stephen. For all he knew, Stephen might not even like guys. Maybe the teasing was just that-- teasing. Meant to get on his nerves (and _boy_ did he succeed). John never got butterflies at the thought of him, never blushed once in his presence. So why did he put his bloody number in this worthless piece of scrap junk? Moreover, _why was he thinking about it so much?!_

John was about to give it up, ready to start another night of booze and The Sex Pistols, when the phone finally awoke with energy. It buzzed loudly, the number sprouting on the screen the same as the one on the slip still in his pocket. 

He scrambled to pick it up, raising it to his ear with the intention of pretending he didn't care about whatever was happening on the other end. However, he didn't get any time to introduce himself, because Stephen wasn't asking him to hang out or anything. He was calling for help. 

_"Constantine? Hey, you wouldn't mind dropping by Manhattan any time soon, right? I think i met a friend of yours."_

* * *

Blood escaped Stephen's lips through a sharp cough as he was thrown into a brick wall. After he slid down, he opened his eyes and looked up at the creature he had encountered only a few minutes prior. 

Clothed in chalky robes, the figure looked almost human-esque, had it not been for the neon red skin or the acute horns sprouting right before his hairline. A strong hand reached down and gripped the neckline of his tunic, raising him into the air. The demon clicked its tongue and looked at him in contempt, which swiftly shifted into disappointment. 

"You're not John Constantine."

Stephen rolled his eyes, the name sounding like a record scratch in his head. Of fucking course. 

"What gave it away? The lack of cigarette stench? Or the fact that I'm completely sober?"

He was dropped onto the ground, flat on his ass, and all he had succeeded in was making the demon even more angry at him. 

"You know him," he leaned down and snarled in his face, breath hot and sticky. "I can tell. I can smell him on you. You reek of his presence. Bring him to me, and I may spare you." 

Glaring into his pepper hot face, Stephen fumbled into his pocket for his cellphone (determined not to break his demeanor) and managed to scroll to Constantine's number. He raised it up, showing the demon the name in all its glory. 

"Let me give him a call."

* * *

_"Constantine? Hey, you wouldn't mind dropping by Manhattan any time soon, right? I think i met a friend of yours."_

He wished he could say he hesitated, that something in him was still telling him not to give him the time of day, but he had to confess that he gave the sorcerer a swift, "Be right there, love," without thinking twice. He hung up and smacked himself in the head. These weren't even strange occurrences anymore, they were practically _arranging_ times to save each other's arses. 

Right after getting the call, John checked in with Gary and Astra, assuring them he'd only gone for an hour at the most (though of course, he was pretty certain he was lying) and opened a portal to Manhattan. Nestled within a downtown back-street was, who else, Stephen Strange being towered over by a demon with a larger than life blade. 

A name sprouted from his tongue quite quickly. He made no effort to appear professional as he strutted towards them. 

"Ah, Longinus." 

The demon turned around slowly, a grin spreading across his face reminiscent of a cat's. "Constantine," he snarled eagerly. 

"So we finally meet," John continued, raising his hand. 

"Unfortunately."

"I should be saying that to you," he whispered a brief incantation and flung his wrist to the side. Longinus was pulled to the wall without so much as a smirk from John. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I haven't," Stephen hoisted himself up and trudged to him. "Do you mind telling me what his deal is?" 

"He feeds on magic, particularly strong kinds," John explained, keeping an eye on Longinus as he struggled through the spell. "But he and his crew down in Hell have had a hankering for me since an... _incident_ regarding one of their members. Be lucky he didn't suck you dry right then and there." 

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, because I'm _dripping_ with luck right now." 

Flicking off his remark, John pointed at the weapon in his hands. "Spear." 

"What?" 

"Disable his spear, we depower him greatly," he explained. A nasty growl shook the air, and the two men turned to see Longinus breaking through the spell and hurtle to the ground, landing right on his feet. His head shot up, eyes now golden slits filled with murderous rage, and he plunged towards them, spear first. 

The two men pivoted outward, Stephen gesturing with his hands to send a rush of wind to push him back. However, having learned from last time, Longinus gave him an appropriate smirk as he deflected the attack with his spear. 

The wind pushed Stephen back, right into the brick wall where his blood was already drying. His head fell to the ground, a trail of liquid seeping down his forehead that was either sweat or blood. He was too focused on recovering his breath to think about it. 

A wave of guilt washed over him. Maybe he wasn't as durable as he thought. 

His eyes were screwed shut from the impact of the attack and he could feel his body going limp already. His brain kept telling him _get up, get up, get UP!_ , and yet he couldn't. Fighting against his own will, he tried to force his eyes back open, but his mind was spinning further, and further, and further... 

" _Strange._ " 

A voice was bringing him back. 

" _Strange!_ " 

Weakly, Stephen opened his eyes to see a mess of blonde hair and stubble kneeling next to him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake, and a much-needed surge of energy jolted through him. 

He couldn't pass out now. He couldn't just leave John alone, right? God, that'd be a shitty note to go out on. Speared through the chest after being flung into a wall like a ragdoll. 

"Strange!" John said again, voice firm. Stephen blinked, sitting up with his weight on his elbow, and he could've sworn John had smiled.

Or maybe he wanted him to smile, because that meant he hadn't failed yet. Even though he had a feeling John would never admit it, he believed in him still. He trusted him ever so slightly-- and the feeling was becoming mutual. So he couldn't fail him now.

"Right, love, don't go dying on me," he pointed to Longinus, who was racing towards them again. "I'll take care of Longinus-- you take away his spear." 

Wordlessly, Stephen nodded swiftly and the two set their plan into motion. Narrowly dodging his lance, he ducked under Longinus' arm while John clasped his hands together and directed them at the demon. 

_"Sanctus operta, Unde veni mittam te!"_

A glaze washed upon Longinus' eyes as his entire body was stripped of control. With a tremendous clatter, his spear fell to the ground as his paralyzed body was forced above a portal back to Hell. And without a second of delay, Stephen sprung to the weapon and took it into his hands. 

It glimmered with arcane energy, and he had to steady his vision to take all of it in at once. Raising his head, John already had Longinus halfway through the portal, but as long as the spear was in their dimension it would only give him a reason to return. So he only had one thing on his mind: he needed to destroy it. With a deep breath, he clutched the spear into his shaking fingers and burned a spell into its being.

Focusing all his power-- every last bit of it --into the platinum spear was more than challenging. Most of his magic had already been sucked away from holding Longinus back, so he had to make due with what he got. Which, unfortunately for him, wasn't much. 

A violet spark glinted in his eye, spreading through his veins and to his fingers. The spear was encapsulated by mystic energy, and John had turned just in time to see it disintegrate into dust and fall through Stephen's fingers. By the time it was completely gone, Stephen was clinging onto his chest with a strenuous gasp. 

With a vicious howl, Longinus had disappeared from this world at the same time as his spear. 

Obliterating the staff wasn't part of the plan, but it was an impressive feat, John had to admit. If he had tried that, he'd be out until next Monday. He kneeled down to the pile of dust and grabbed a bit of it, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger. 

"C'mon now, you didn't have to _break_ it," he chuckled. "Could've made a pretty penny off of it on the black market." 

Stephen hadn't looked back down. He was still heaving. 

"Didn't know...D-Didn't know if he'd pick it back up..." 

John looked up to snark about how he was already halfway through the portal, until he realized how dreary he was looking all of a sudden. 

"You okay, love?" he asked, noticing how unease on his feet Stephen was. "You aren't looking so good..."

"What do you mean?" Stephen tried to cover up his pain with a tired laugh. "Perfectly fi..."

And as fate deliberately wanted to prove him wrong, he nearly fell forward. John caught him, wrapping his arms around his torso, and helped him stand up. 

"Strange?" 

Stephen didn't answer. His head was down, sweat raining from his forehead, and his skin had suddenly turned pallid. 

"Hey! Hey, love, what's the matter with you?"

"Leave me be," he waved him off, embarrassment seeping into his voice. "I can take care of myself."

He coughed into his fist once, then twice, and then it turned into a fit. He felt John rub his back through it, and though he was grateful, he just wished he would _disappear_ already. 

"Mmm, not really doing yourself any favors, mate."

"Believe me," Stephen rasped, vision going out of focus momentarily. "You don't want-- you don't want to see the price."

His mind wandered, far beyond where it needed to be, and he gazed at the floor as he nearly collapsed again. John gripped his shoulders, forcing him onto his feet. 

"Hey, eyes on me," he whispered, gripping his face gently. "Where's your house?"

"177A--" another harsh cough interrupted him. "177A Bleecker Street."

His eyes fell shut, his legs finally giving up on him, and he went hurtling to the ground at last. His vision faded into the abyss, and he felt a hand on his shoulders trying to shake him back to life as John's voice cued him out. 

"Hey, Strange! Don't go falling asleep on me. Love? Love! I said _don't go falling asleep o..."_

* * *

Deja vu washed over Stephen as he opened his eyes and was met with the inside of his Sanctum Sanctorum. Okay, maybe _deja vu_ wasn't the right term. It was more like...irony, he supposed, since this exact scenario was extremely reminiscent of his encounter with a certain man only a few weeks prior. 

And speaking of that certain man, he was standing at the foot of his bed, one hand in his pocket and the other preoccupied with a cigarette. He opened his mouth to ask him to stop smoking in his room, but the sound he ended up making instead was strangled, which at the very least did well at drawing his attention. 

"Okay, good, you're not dead."

With a haggard groan, Stephen propped himself onto his elbows and tipped his head at John. 

"You found my house."

Calling it a 'house' was being generous, honestly. It was more like a house- _shaped_ living being. John seemed to think the same as he shook his head with a tight smirk. 

"More like _it_ found me. The moment I found the address, the doors opened up and swept me in."

Stephen leaned back, letting his head sink into the pillows. "Sounds about right."

The two waded in silence for a while, and Stephen almost thought he'd pass out once more right then and there. That was until John made his presence known again by coughing into his fist. 

"I'm sorry-- mind telling me what this is all about?" he motioned a finger at him. "What is _'the price?_ '"

Sitting back up, Stephen rested his pained forehead in his palm as he contemplated the question. "Alright, how do I explain this? You know about magical exhaustion, right?"

" _No..._ " he drawled with thick sarcasm. As if he didn't have a chronic case of it. 

Understanding what he meant, Stephen nodded. "Whenever I cast large spells like what you just saw-- spells that overuse my stamina, or being in a weakened state --my body pays for it, whether it be through a severe fainting spell, or through hanging my head over the toilet for a good 4 days or so."

"Eugh."

Stephen expected that. "Yep."

"And you say this happens every time you do a big spell?"

"Yes. My magic is connected to my body. Your magic," he pointed a finger at him, "is inherent, I believe. Plus you have more experience with it. You've grown an immunity. Luckily I just passed out this time, but sometimes...it gets messy."

John raised an eyebrow at the information, but didn't question it. After all, it wasn't like he was a doctor or anything. He stuck out his cigarette on the wall (Stephen made a note to clean that up later) and stuffed his hands into his coat. 

"I'll take your word for it," he shrugged. "So why don't you want any help?"

All Stephen did was narrow his eyes and tip his head forward. A strand of hair fell into his face and he looked far more drained than he did previously (which was saying a lot.) "I said-- it gets _messy_."

John's eyes widened slightly, but other than that, all he did was shake his head. "Heard you the first time, love. Well, just be grateful I'm so open-minded that I risked getting puke on my coat to lug you over here."

"My eternal gratitude," he huffed, shuffling in the blankets. "Now before you leave, can you get me a glass of water? I'm parched."

John's smile fell and he examined the doctor from his bed, tired and alone. To think, he spent all this time cooped up in some mansion withering away just for doing his job. And he still _didn't_ care about him ( _he didn't!_ ), but as he turned to the door to fulfill Stephen's wish, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. 

"Feel free to call me if anything like this happens and you need help," he said, just slightly above a whisper, like he didn't want to say it out loud. He popped open one eye to see Stephen on his elbows again, surprised at the mere thought he actually cared about his well-being. As if to deflect that point, John smirked, maybe to pretend like he was just joking. "Wouldn't want you looking like a drunkard passed out in the middle of the sidewalk."

And Stephen shook his head, but John could tell (without a shadow of a doubt) there was an actual smile on his face before his head fell back and he was sinking into the pillows where he needed to be. 

"That's obviously _your_ job," he muttered right before his eyes shut. 

John smiled back at him, but that was only because he knew Stephen couldn't see it. He continued to grab him a drink, lamenting over what should've been a brief team-up turned caretaking session, and paused in thought. 

Hmm. Maybe he liked Stephen more than he would admit. But still, that didn't mean he had to admit it out loud. 

**Author's Note:**

> okie so I really like writing long author's comments (idk why) so! timeline details!! 
> 
> \-- this series takes place AFTER Season 5 of Legends of Tomorrow, meaning that the entire Fates rewrite happened and was reversed, and Zari 2.0 will be the version seen (unfortunately this means Zari/John didn't happen :( but DON'T WORRY because I really love this ship and I'm planning on writing a few oneshots centering around them soon :D)  
> \-- this series takes place in a world where Infinity War & Endgame DIDN'T HAPPEN and Strange & The Avengers met under different circumstances, so it's also about a year or 2 after Doctor Strange's debut movie, all of the Avengers are alive and well (and we'll be seeing them throughout the series ;D) 
> 
> tbh i didn't actually expect to put out, what, 3 fics in February? i'm used to working on a single fic for MONTHS and then just trashing it entirely, i'm actually kinda happy about how this is turning out haha. but we still have a long way's to go in the story, so stay tuned!


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